


Pale Green

by mattygroves



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Desert pastoral, M/M, Solarpunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 09:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7428655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattygroves/pseuds/mattygroves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A few miles past old Edwards AFB but before you get to Red Rocks,” the email read. Rodney cursed this dumbass again as he tried to read his tablet and keep an eye on the desert highway stretching out before him. “There’s a wooden sign with a green arrow painted on it. Turn there and you’ll eventually find me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pale Green

“A few miles past old Edwards AFB but before you get to Red Rocks,” the email read. Rodney cursed this dumbass again as he tried to read his tablet and keep an eye on the desert highway stretching out before him. “There’s a wooden sign with a green arrow painted on it. Turn there and you’ll eventually find me.”

Rodney squinted in the afternoon light, his solar car running in absolute silence. The only sounds were the gentle spin of the wheels and the whooshing of air breezing past the vehicle’s aerodynamic surfaces. He tossed the tablet onto the passenger seat in frustration.

***

“You made it,” Rodney heard as he rummaged in the car’s rear storage compartment. He looked up to see a tall figure with spiky dark hair approaching. He was wearing loose trousers and a long sleeved tunic, with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows revealing deeply tanned, hairy forearms.

“No thanks to you and your idiotic instructions,” Rodney said.

“John Sheppard,” he held out his hand.

“Dr. Rodney McKay,” taking it, “Obviously.”

“Thanks for coming out, Doc,” and Rodney saw that his eyes were pale, pale green, weirdly similar to the sagey scrub that populated the area.

***

“It should only take a few days,” Rodney said, reviewing the damage. “What the hell happened here?”

John scratched the back of neck thoughtfully, “Let’s just call it an experiment gone awry.”

“Well, like I said, a few days. Anybody else, it might take weeks, but—”

“They said you were the best. Guest room’s just inside to the right, feel free to dump your stuff and relax after the long drive.”

“I’d rather get straight to work.”

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “I’ll be out in the vineyard doing some routine maintenance. Radio if you need me.”

He tossed him a small handheld device and walked off into the rows of solar glass glistening in the desert sun, absorbing its heat and efficiently storing it as usable energy. A small voice in Rodney’s head, a voice he usually ignored, pointed out what a beautiful sight it was, John Sheppard disappearing among the shimmering yellow and blush and pale, pale green.

Rodney turned his attention to the radio that still rested on his palm. It was cobbled together from recognizable parts, but there was something simple and right about the small leaf shape design and well-soldered connections.

***

A few hours later, Rodney became aware that the heat on his back was completely gone. He glanced at his wristwatch. The display read 5:24—too early for sunset, even in late fall. Then he heard the crashing of feet behind him.

“Get your stuff!” John called, grinning like a maniac, “Storm’s coming.”

He grabbed Rodney by the shirt, pulling him toward the house as big drops of rain began to hit the dusty ground, leaving golf ball sized craters. He clutched his tools at the last second, and slammed the cover on the panel he’d been fixing. They were only halfway to the house when it really started coming down, and as they stood dripping and panting in the entryway, the entire room was lit up by a lightning flash.

“That’s incredibly close,” Rodney yelled over the thunder that shook the windows.

“Nah,” said John, still grinning, “Welcome to the high desert. You can thank climate change for today’s little show.”

It was then Rodney realized how close they were standing. He could see the raindrops balanced precariously on John’s eyelashes.

***

It rained for two days, and Rodney was starting to get cabin fever. The house itself was nicely laid out, but not spacious. There were two bedrooms and an open living space/kitchen area, with a big window opening onto a green house built into the side of the house. In the green house, made from the same colored glass as the vineyard, there was a table where they ate meals and had their morning coffee in companionable silence. Most of the food they ate came from there, too. It was the healthiest Rodney had eaten since last visiting his sister Jeannie. Usually, with all the traveling his job entailed, he lived on protein supplements and pre-packaged meals.

“You play chess?” John asked on the third afternoon, pulling out an old delicately carved set. Rodney gave him a sardonic look and that kept them occupied until bedtime.

The next morning, Rodney had barely finished his coffee when John threw a rain jacket at him and said, “Come on, I want to show you something.”

He led him to the side door of a rusty old hangar behind the house. Rodney was just about to complain about how wet his feet had gotten in the thirty meter walk, when John flipped on the lights.

“Wow,” said Rodney.

“She’s a beauty, ain’t she?” John smiled proudly, running his hand down the nose. “I’ve been cobbling her together from parts for the last few years. You’d be surprised what you can find in the desert.”

It was a plane, but not like any plane Rodney had seen before. It had the pedestrian body of an old Cessna 152, but the wings and nose were covered with solar glass, almost like a mosaic. Peering in the windows, Rodney could see that the controls had been completely overhauled and was willing to bet the engine would be a similarly bastardized blending of various technologies in a way that was professionally irritating and yet personally intriguing.

The rain continued to hammer on the roof, but Rodney had already forgotten about his wet feet.

The sun came out that afternoon.

***

Apropos of nothing, John said, “I have this theory that everything in the world, on an infinitesimal level, is constantly vibrating, vibrating just past the range of our sensory experience. And if you could somehow manage to feel it all buzzing through every cell in your body, well, it’d be about the most the amazing sex toy in the world until it shook you apart.”

“That’s the worst science I’ve ever heard,” Rodney replied.

“Sure. But just imagine. What a way to go.”

Rodney stood there for a moment, having gone slack at the mouth. His eyes went glassy as they gazed at a point just past John’s shoulder, to the coral hills rising out of the rain-bright desert scrub. Then he shuddered, coming back to himself, and took a moment to glare at John before stalking away.

John watched him go before turning back to the engine of his ATV, humming ‘Ring of Fire’ as he worked.

***

“Go slow,” Rodney said as John’s hand slid down his back, “It’s been awhile.”

“You’re talking to the guy who lives alone in the desert. I know all about ‘awhile,’” John said, kissing his way across Rodney’s freckled shoulders.

***

It should have only taken another couple of days, but Rodney dragged out the repairs for a week. Finally, as the sun was dipping below the hills, Rodney found John in the solar vineyard not far from the house.

“It’s finished,” he said.

“Okay,” John said, holding Rodney’s gaze, his eyes inscrutable as the last of the light flickered on his face.

“I want to stay,” Rodney said after a long moment.

“You could stay,” John said.

“Okay,” and he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

**Author's Note:**

> Can't stop, won't stop :) Thanks so much for reading, I'd love to hear what you think in the comments!
> 
> I've been wanting to write something solar punk for awhile now, and I'm really pleased with how this turned out. The setting is inspired by a recent drive I took through this very desert. What can I say? California has my heart and my bones.
> 
> The colors of the solar glass are inspired by Marjan van Aubel's gorgeous solar glass windows and table: http://www.marjanvanaubel.com/work/current_window/


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